


Diamond Rings and Gutter Bones

by viixiie



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Hurt Klaus Hargreeves, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, It's Chapter Five, Jewish Dave, Katz Family A+ Parenting, M/M, Party Culture, R&R In Bangkok, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Two Bros Chilling In A Two Bedroom Apartment Sharing A Bed Cause They're Super Gay, Vietnam War, heavy depression themes, my boys need hugs, occasional mentions of self harm, tragic backstories, wholesome content, yes there's smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-05-15 16:51:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19299823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viixiie/pseuds/viixiie
Summary: Klaus wasn't planning to land in the middle of the Vietnam war, not by a long shot.Even less was he planning to meet someone who, in the face of drugs, and terror, and war, could make him feel... so perfectly, entirely safe and whole again.Five days in Bangkok, five days of Klaus falling more and more in love with David Katz, and five days of two soldiers  realizing what beauty means again.[Plot gets better further in, sorry for iffy quality as I get back into writing!]





	1. Find Me a Place to Lay These Bones

**Author's Note:**

> This might get either fairly heavy or decently sexual as time goes. No idea how long this will get or how it'll play out yet, but that's the beauty of it!  
> If you have content requests, or especially, knowledge on the Vietnam War (Sky Soldiers specifically) or Judaism that would help me out/that you really want to see them engage in, feel free to comment or message me! I'm seance_babey on TikTok and Twitter and knightmares_and_crows.babey on Instagram <3  
> My war and R&R knowledge comes from some googling, feel free to amend things you know should play out differently than I've written it!

  No one could, or would, ever claim that war was an easy thing. It wasn't ever easy, not to be aware of, let alone live amongst or god forbid, take part in. It became routine to see bloodstained clothes, missing and shredded limbs, the bodies of fellow soldiers without heads, or worse, without faces. These, especially, took the longest to acclimate to, and were cause for many a run to vomit outside the tent.  
  Those runs soon led to only dry heaving, then settled into just a dry mouth, before finally prompting no reaction. Numbness, drugged or not, was the norm. It was the only way to survive the mental assault of being a soldier. Doing his best to shut it out, to forget. And for a time, it worked. It helped, of course, that the war was desperate for bodies, and explaining to a commander that he was from 51 years in the future and had superpowers only got him a fair amount of pills, and hell, if he couldn't get back home to watch the apocalypse play out at least he could pass the time in a drugged stupor.   
  Cigarrettes took over joints in abundance, and his lungs suffered heavily for it, but his mind was a fraction clearer at least. No one really questioned him; they assumed he came in from another station, and that his jolting out of bed in terror almost every night was just PTSD from another part of the war. They weren't necessarily wrong.  
  Regardless, he wasn't all that popular. He opted to avoid talking to as many folks as possible, following orders as immaculately as he could, and getting through days. It was mental discipline he barely had, stretched as thin as possible, but his alternative was being discharged into absolute nothingness, in a timeline where he had no business roaming. Going along and probably dying in the war was the easiest for him, and held the least risk of fucking history over for everyone else.

  That wasn't the only thing holding him there, though. One face cropped up way too often, one smile just appeared so much more genuinely than any others. It belonged to no one it ever should have for Klaus; a strong, steady, down-to-earth type, with a pure face and sturdy mind. A man who worked easily, knew where he was needed and how like it war was a simple daily routine all his life. A man who had unwittingly murmured Klaus to sleep amid particularly bad visions, in a language Klaus wouldn't recognize as Hebrew for about three months.  
  A man who introduced himself when no one else had, held Klaus's hand with a firm grip that said, "I'll keep you steady", and probably sealed his place in Klaus's heart in under 10 words on a bumpy transport bus.  
  So when slotting for R&R approached, and Klaus got a nudge and a beaming, "where are you headed?" it didn't take a lot of thought or debate for him to immediately reply, "wherever you'll be, brother."   
  "Bangkok," came the exuberant reply, and Klaus's face fell. "Afraid that's a little out of budget for little old Klaus, then." In truth, Klaus didn't have anything. He'd honestly not thought about leave, having only been there for a few months yet. But Dave wasn't having that.   
  The soldier straightened, clapped a hand around the back of Klaus's neck, and steered him in the direction of their commander. "Hargreeves, I asked where you were headed," he said, his tone firm but his eyes bright. "Not what you could afford. You're coming with me."

  Tan Son Nhut was crowded, either by soldiers or civillians flocking to see the caravans come in to the Saigon airport. The cramped flight, nearly 2 hours long, felt like an eternity to the restless young man. He was anxious, excluding having never flown or left the country before- at least, not consciously, before crash-landing in Vietnam- but to be entering a strange country with no money where he couldn't speak to anyone. The more he sat there, thinking about the situation, the more he felt trapped in the giant aluminum box, thousands of miles above ground, surrounded by strangers on the way to be surrounded by FOREIGN strangers--  
  A hand around the back of his neck startled him. A semi-common gesture of authority by now, it also served to stabilize him, and this time he felt the slightest circles being pressed into his skin. Klaus relaxed into the contact, only slightly at first, but his head was lolling to the side after a moment and he barely even noticed.  
  The soldier in the seat beside him was still awake, miraculously, and swapped seats with the man behind them upon request. Klaus felt his entire body grow lighter as Dave slid in next to him, though his heart kept up its heavy pace for much more enjoyable reasons.   
  "Scared of planes?" Dave questioned, curious rather than judgemental. "You know we're an airborne unit, right?" His smile dispelled any level of offense Klaus might have taken, and the wiry brunette chuckled warmly in return.   
  "First time," he replied.  
  "How'd they get you to Vietnam? I can't imagine they'd ship any Army soldier by boat."   
  Number Four froze. Could he really justify it any way besides the truth? Dave was absolutely right; that much was common sense.   
  Fuck it.  
  "I actually just kind of... dropped in from about 50 years in the future, and I have no idea what I'm doing here." Eyes puppy-wide, overflowing with sincerity and pleading. Dave's twinkled mischieviously in response, and he broadened his grin. "Alright," he mused, winking at Klaus with a twitch of hte corner of his mouth that made the brunette melt. "Keep your secrets."  
  Klaus offered an expression of mock offense, clutching his chest. But Dave didn't ask again, not then or any other time, until Klaus allowed himself to indulge the soldier on his life one drunken night. But that's a recount for another time. 

  Number Four wasn't sure when he had fallen asleep, or how, because what he remembered of the conversation for those two hours had been riveting and exhilerating. There was never a time he wasn't lost in the brightness of Dave's eyes, the eagerness with which he turned his mouth into a grin for him at the smallest prompts, his mouth in general...  
  Klaus shoved his thoughts as deep into his mind as he could. Camaraderie was strong amongst soldiers, but this was the sixties, and he wasn't about to watch that beautiful face twist in disgust if he thought Klaus was pushing 2019 normalcy on him by implying this was anything other than kindhearted friendship, probably born of pity for the lost and thin-framed man. He'd taken many a beating, been in several fights; hell, he was a superhero who fought criminals for most of his childhood. He'd been tossed around a good bit in his younger years over his sexuality. It really didn't get to him anymore, but to take a hit from this specific man... the thought was devastating. No, he'd repress it all. He'd be good, and pure, and as clean as possible while regularly abusing anti-psychotics and moos stabilizers, to keep Dave as close as he could. He swore it.   
  The freedom of being able to stalk around the local black markets for five days and stockpile drugs to recoup in a cheap hotel room was revitalizing, and a new energy began to fill the superhero as the plane came close to landing. Time alone was no new concept to him, and usually preferred, and sleeping in a cot surrounded by soldiers was a nightly source of anxiety. He was mentally scheduling nights in shitty bars wherever he could find them, and time he might be able to spare to be as sober as possible to visit with Dave, too, uninterrupted by commanders and fellow soldiers and nightly air raids.  
  Dave taking Klaus's small duffel from the overhead bin along with his own and motioning for him to follow as the plane slowly emptied was unexpected, and him stepping forward at the R&R center once off the shuttle to request a fairly nice two bedroom rental apartment for them both was even more so. Klaus didn't even know apartments were an option.  
  Plans for mind-numbing alone time to get stoned out the window, Klaus hid his disappointment and agreed when Dave double-checked his request with him. He was surprised, however, to find there wasn't much to bite back.   
  No, he wasn't. If he'd had the balls, he'd have asked Dave for a place to stay, preferably with him. Turns out, that wasn't necessary. What a good man Dave kept proving himself to be.  
  "Good man" was slang, Klaus knew, to not let himself be reminded that Dave was the single most gentle, charismatic, and absolute top he'd ever met, because those thoughts were NOT helping.

  The apartment was lovely, and poor Klaus couldn't stop his mix of apologizing and thanking as they stepped into it. He stood near the doorway like a vampire, unable to justify stepping further as though he didn't belong there. To be fair, being welcomed into a living space that wasn't rehab or followed by a funeral was pretty foreign by now. Of course, Diego had tried, but regardless of his habits and the thieving that fed them, he couldn't bring himself to burden Diego like that, or risk getting desperate and stealing from him. Diego was off limits.   
  "Hargreeves, come on, get in here. Plane sleep is shit, you need rest. Or at least something to eat and some time to lay down before we hit a bar later, yeah?"   
  He seemed so genuine, but Klaus found himself shuffling forward with apprehension, looking for the least offensive place to lay his bag. Dave smiled sympathetically.  
  "Not one to get a lot of support, are ya, brother? Gimme that." Dave didn't wait to be handed the duffel; in one smooth motion, he had snatched it away, traded hands, and grabbed Klaus's wrist, swiping his thumb ever so briefly across the back of the brunette's hand in a move that could have MANY interpretations.   
  Power moves were for assholes.  
  Klaus trotted sheepishly behind him to the open door Dave had gone into. "Don't we have two rooms?"   
  "We do, but I want to make food, and I'm too jet lagged to worry about separating everything off to two rooms. Hope you don't mind sitting with me for brunch." He set the duffel down beside his own, shot Klaus yet another wink, and hurried off to the kitchen around the corner with a cheerful "nap a little, I'll wake you for food when it's done!"   
  Klaus expected to feel uneasy being waited on in any capacity, but he tucked in under the blankets on the bed after quickly changing into the fleecy lounge pants he'd rented and discarding the scratchy cotton shirt they'd all been given for the travel and was out almost immediately.

  Dreams of ghosts were common. Usually they weren't even dreams, but actual spirits trying to invade his sleep and use it to get his attention when he couldn't consciously drown them.  
  This meant that dreaming about his siblings brought him back to consciousness in a sweat, eyes wild, breath caught in his throat. His hands practically clawed at Dave's arm, which was Diego's moments ago, demanding he bring Eudora to him as payback for not being there and making them lose the battle against the apocalypse. He shook his head violently, demanding that the voices of Luther and Allison battering him for being too high, too useless to talk to them, for disappearing when they needed him, be silent.   
  He couldn't breathe.  
  Not until the visions of his siblings, covered in the various wounds he'd seen on soldiers because he had no knowledge of what Five actually saw of them, became blocked out by a forest green, and he felt himself pulled against something steady and warm. A heartbeat reached his ear, drowning out his name, until his own matched it, and he finally was calm enough to realize that he was sitting perfectly still, perfectly silent, with tears rolling down his cheeks and staining Dave's shirt.  
  "I-I'm sorry, I- you can- here, take my-"  
   _"Klaus,"_ Dave interjected, his tone almost motherly. "I know what neurosis is, brother. Don't justify or apologize to me for any of it, understand?" A sad smile slipped onto his face as he patted Klaus's shoulder, and for the first time Klaus felt like someone was looking at him without any expectation, or doubt, or disappointment. The sensation was almost scary, it was so unthinkable, so unfamiliar. He just nodded, numb, and wiped his face.  
  Dave, not wanting to draw out any of the terror, broadened his grin, and turned to the small table on his side of the bed to lift up a big tray. "Eggs and waffles fan? Kinda childish, but it reminds me of my mom, and a time before..." He paused, and now it was his turn to look sheepish, but he offered the tray and the two plates toward Klaus without hesitation. The smiley-face of berries on the waffles wrenched Klaus's heart. He felt a chuckle burst out of him, not bullying in any degree, but soft, loving.   
  "Reminds me of my mom, too," he replied with a hint of sadness, and maybe regret, though he masked it as well as he could. Whether Dave caught it or not, he said nothing about it.  
  They found a mildly decent radio station, rather than any kind of TV, and ate in a gentle, tender silence.   
  When they chose to get some rest, for only a couple of hours after their meal, and Klaus rolled onto Dave's chest in his sleep, his uneasy breathing slowed to a deep, contented sigh. Dave was still wide awake, eyes closed, taking in just the pure energy of helplessness, and fear, and pain, and  _love_ all rolling off the strange little man like a tidal wave. Something in the way Klaus couldn't really find peace until his hand was ever so gently clutching the hem of Dave's shirt made the soldier lay a gentle hand, light and unintrusive, across the strong shoulder blades of his smaller companion. Though Klaus rolled away in time, and Dave fell asleep somewhere along the span of those few hours, they awoke with their backs to each other but rested and content. Dave said nothing of the positions they'd been in, and he found he wouldn't have minded just holding him a little closer, watching his eyelashes flutter in his dreams, and listening to the soft breath of a man so painfully unfamiliar with peace that it frightened him, for as long as G-d would allow it. 


	2. And To Keep Them From The Foxes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klaus struggles with self worth, on top of his rapidly growing feelings, and Dave is not only there to quell those fears, but also to relate to so much more of Klaus's pain than he ever thought possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As before, this may get into some heavy topics! I kind of just flow with whatever comes to mind; these two are a delight to write and come into plotlines really easily, and I adore it.

  God, Klaus was going to die.  
  This was it. Not by apocalypse, or gunfire, or a mortar dropped from a plane in the middle of the night, no.   
  The utterly devastating wink, when he was already trying desperately to not look at his temporary- and painfully so- roommate, who was freshly showered, shirtless, and wandering the apartment in a towel while deciding on evening clothes before catching a bus out to a bar he said looked "promising".   
  Klaus wasn't sure how he felt about that word, but by God, he wasn't about to spend his night alone in Thailand after having at least two sizable panic episodes that day that he couldn't pull out of without Dave. There was no way in hell he'd ever ASK for Dave's help, and prove himself the pitiful helpless child Dave, and probably everyone else, already took him for, but the man was incredibly steadying, and even with the mood stabilizers and psychosis meds, Klaus was slowly unravelling without something harder, or at the very least a relatively constant intake of weed.   
  So, here he sat, also shirtless as he had fairly recently woken up, and waiting to shower per request because Dave "needed opinions". The brunette was careful to be honest, but not  _too_ honest, lest some lucky lady happen to take too much interest in such a well-dressed American soldier.   
  "Do we want classy affair, or trashy club?" Klaus asked idly, tracing the lines of his palm tattoos to fake a level of disinterest in the man only a couple feet in front of him. He caught only the sound, and the sight in his peripheral, of Dave discarding his towel. His breath rushed out much more sharply than he intended, and he missed the curious glance and half-smirk Dave shot him.  
  What he didn't miss, though, was the innocent, "which ones?" as the blonde held up a pair of nice grey slacks in one hand and slim-cut, pinstripe jeans in the other. Klaus held his breath in a moment of self-discipline, then forced his usual mischievous half-grin and leaned back on his hands. He gave Dave a pointed once-over- a mistake, truly- and replied in a cool tone, "whatever brings out all of the Lord's blessings best, brother. Big soldier brawn, nice ass, promising... package.. give the other soldiers a run for their money with the ladies out there."   
  Dave held his gaze for a moment longer than most would deem necessary, then let his suave smirk reach his eyes in a brilliant, crooked smile. "Blessings, are they?" He tossed the slacks back into his bag, pulling on the jeans and then a debilitatingly fitted turtleneck. He gave a precious little twirl on one heel, and Klaus offered a big show of applause.  
  "Beautissimo!! Brava, brava!" Klaus pinched his fingers together and kissed them, his Italian mimicry as stereotypical as possible. He flounced to his feet, eager to take a real shower, and paused to place hands on Dave's shoulders. "If I were a dame, I could kiss you already, and I'm sober as a saint," he declared dramatically, puppy eyes strong, and he definitely imagined Dave's eyes flickering downward for a fraction of a second before he blinked and was back to meeting Klaus's.   
  "Would make the night a much easier endeavour, truly," the blonde replied, his feigned despair just as strong and his puppy eyes rivalling Klaus's like no one else ever had.   
  The hot shower was exactly what the lanky man needed to clear his head. Dave was getting to him so much more today than he had before, and it was still only the first day of five, plus travel time. He sighed heavily, letting water stream over his face, and resigned himself again to temper his attraction. Dave's presence was far more important than that, and it wasn't worth the risk to lose him.  _He's all you have,_ Klaus thought solemnly as the harsh water pounded into his back.  _Especially here._  
  Feeling his resolve strengthen, and finally feeling decently clean and awake again, Klaus left the shower, wrapping his body and hair in towels. He found some clothes on the bed, and a note. 

> _Ran to get us some stuff for the place and a little booze before the club, wanted to save some cash.  
>  _ _Sorry to snoop, but I saw these on top in your bag, and thought they'd pair nice with this shirt of mine. You're welcome to wear them tonight!_
> 
> _DK :)_

 A lovely pair of slim black pants and a pale blue plaid button-up shirt sat under the note. Cuffing the hems of the pants made them feel far more his speed, and he was halfway through buttoning the shirt when he heard the door click open.  
  He paused, staring in the mirror, unsure if leaving the shirt partially unbuttoned was a good move or not. Movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he turned to see Dave pretty shamelessly looking him over. He hoped his blush wasn't obvious, but the tiniest endearing head tilt from the blonde proved his fears.   
  "Tuck the side in," Dave piped up after a moment, still lingering in the doorway with the bag of alcohol in hand. He was looking at Klaus in the reflection now, paying more attention to his facial features as he studied himself and fussed with his clothes than he was to the ensemble itself. He met Klaus's confused gaze in the mirror, shifted apprehensively, then seemed to make up his mind and stride forward, tossing the bag gently onto the bed.   
  He looked vaguely apologetic as he guided Number Four's arm out of his way, then fairly quickly tucked the front corner of the shirt into the slacks and stepped back as soon as he was done. He noticed the swift, tiny intake of breath from the wiry man more than Klaus had noticed himself making it, but he didn't make mention. "It's.. you can mess with it, of course, just something I do a lot. I'm gonna, I'll go put things away."  
  Was Dave... flustered? Klaus quickly pushed the thought away, reminding himself of his one-sided shower discussion, and looked himself over once more, running his hands over his face in mild exhasperation. Maybe if he got back after leave, grabbed Dave's hand, and popped open the briefcase, he could just bring him back to the present and keep him forever, and show him that liking dudes was fine, and they could just be as gay as they wanted.   
  This would be a wonderful, but long, five days. 

  The taxi ride to the bar was odd; Dave knew very limited Lao and did all the talking for them, but the driver was a little erratic and road rage-y for Klaus's comfort. Both soldiers were quite happy to escape the car, just as the driver seemed all too quick to speed off as soon as their doors closed. Number Four subconsciously hovered close to Dave's side, and Dave pretended not to notice.  
  Dave, as it turned out, was something of a party animal. He was friendly to everyone, but made it a specific point to keep close to the bar for almost the entire first hour, piling on drinks and encouraging Klaus to both join him and know his limits.  
  That was always on his mind; making sure Klaus felt included but not pressured, asking if he needed any water, acting like a true chaperone even when his face flushed and he swayed a little on his feet. His first thought was Klaus every time, and that realization almost made the younger man want to cry with just how unfamiliar a sensation it was.  
  Unfamiliar, undeserved. Klaus wasn't one who attracted pampering. He was one who struggled to keep a serious face, who messed things up by being clumsy or making jokes, who stole and bent truth and abused generosity.   
  He tensed his jaw hard as the last sentiment crossed his mind, and despite his better judgement, started refusing drinks.  
  He turned down a couple of girls who asked for dances, sitting with a water at the bar and feeling himself start to grow ever so slightly sober. Not enough that most drinkers would notice, but enough to make him uncomfortable; but another drink would add to Dave's tab. He made an effort to just breathe through it, and take a pill extra when he got back, maybe nab one of the cheap beers Dave had already bought if one was offered, but he could tell he wasn't looking super hot.  
  When Dave crossed the dancefloor a short while later, never gone from his side for more than a few minutes, his hazy drunken grin shifted with almost mesmerizing swiftness into a clear and serious concern. Four tilted his head in utter fascination, but Dave took him by the elbow and guided him toward the hallway leading to the restroom before he could ask questions.  
  "Hargreeves, you doing alright?" Klaus missed hearing his first name from Dave, but kept quiet. "I'm fine, yeah."  
  "Fine is bad. Don't tiptoe around me."   
  "No, I'm good, really, I'm just.. I'm getting tired, I think I might-"   
   _"Hargreeves."_    
  The firm tone made Klaus repress a flinch, and he averted his eyes from Dave's. The speed in which Dave's tensed shoulders dropped, and his brows softened completely, was just as incredible as before. Dave, as a companion, was like clay, molding and shifting instantly to fit the exact mold Klaus needed at any given time, and the sensation of such careful, customized energy was daunting.  
  The medium felt like a child, but suddenly under the gentle watch of Grace, rather than the blatant disappointment of Reginald. He couldn't self-destruct here, not with Dave so caring. "Dave, I... look, what you're doing, helping me be out here, giving me a place to stay, getting me drinks, I... it's amazing, and wonderful, and you're..." Amazing, and wonderful, and  _beautiful,_ and he wanted to shout it from the rooftops. But he held his tongue. "You're very kind, and I just... I really, don't deserve this, I can't ask this of you."  
  Dave didn't reply at first; didn't agree, but didn't deny, just seemed... pensive. "Well," he stated blandly after a moment. "That leaves us two options, doesn't it?"   
  Klaus grew wary. These situations didn't always end well for him, and the energy made him anxious. "Does it?"  
  "It does." Suddenly, Dave's serious expression broke in an almost dorky grin, and he clapped a hand over Klaus's shoulder. "You can take a shot with me, if you'd prefer, and come out and dance, have a good time, and let me make you dance with me for every time you think you shouldn't let me offer you a good leave with good drinks, or we go home, get some dinner, and take it easy for tonight, and then you let me decide what you deserve from me, and agree to not worry about this trip." He winked- again- as if he knew that was Klaus's most immediate weakness, and even in the mood he was in, the brunette couldn't fight the shy smile that broke out across his face.   
  "My family always hated me for dancing  _and_ complaining too much, if that tells you anything."  
  "It tells me everything. Come." And Dave lifted his chin, extended an elbow, and led Klaus onto the dancefloor as if he were Daisy Buchanan on the arm of his own personal Jay Gatsby.   
  It was the first time they linked arms to take a shot, which would become their staple quite quickly until they almost refused to take a single shot any other way.   
  It was the first time they danced together, barely even hearing the music but feeling it slam into their ribs and vibrate heavily under their feet. They were all arms and spins, and neither could stop smiling.  
  It was the first time they taxi'd home, laughing inconsolably and graciously tipping the grumpy older driver for putting up with their antics.  
  It was the first time of five that Dave would sweep Klaus up and carry him into the apartment; or try to, before stumbling while closing the door and landing in an exuberant, giggling heap against the hallway wall.  
  And it was the first nightmare-free sleep Klaus had had since appearing in Vietnam, tucked against Dave's side because he struggled too much to walk to his own room.

* * *

 

  Dave was gone when Klaus woke up, surprisingly not hungover given how much he'd had to drink, and thankful as hell upon that realization that it was probably from actually having someone make sure he took care of himself, for what was probably the first time... ever, really. Hell, Reginald didn't even comment on his drug abuse for the first four years, not until he started getting haphazard about his habits and leaving things lying around.   
  The brunette was sans pants, but still in the plain black boxer-briefs he'd gotten on arrival, that he still declared were far too constricting for his liking. He was still in Dave's shirt though, and with the room empty, he afforded himself a moment to just wrap his arms around himself, drink in the scent of the incredibly alluring soldier, and feel a lovely energy race through him. The smile it brought to his lips, though faint, couldn't be tempered down as he made his way, a bit slow with sleepy stiffness in his joints, to the kitchen.  
  "Cooking so early?" Klaus questioned, rubbing his eyes and hoisting himself up onto the counter to sit and keep Dave company. The blonde chuckled at this, glancing at Klaus's hands before turning back to the pancakes and grits he was working on.  
  "I tend to fall back into old habits when I can. Feels less like war that way. Speaking of old habits, so to speak.. you ever gonna pipe up on those tattoos, soldier?"   
  He paused, glanced at his hands. He could tell him, and he felt like Dave would listen. Maybe not believe him, but he probably wouldn't shun or shame him, even so.   
  But did he want that, either way? Did he want to invite this man to make him back into Klaus Hargreeves, Number Four, The Seance of the Umbrella Academy, just like he had always been?  
  No.  
  Not yet.   
  "I just might," he offered idly. "Maybe when you start to decide I'm not worth so much attent-" He broke off at a stern glance from Dave. "I'll spare you a dance this time, but it's only because I'm busy," he admonished firmly, but with  _yet another wink._ "But you've got a tally now. If it happens again, it'll be two songs."  
  Klaus draped himself dramatically across the counter, arm dangling over the side with his other hand on his forehead. "Oh, Dave, how ever would I cope?? TWO songs?? I might not  _survive.._ "  
  "Feet off the counter, Juliet, and come get breakfast. There's fruit in the fridge, I got some yesterday, but man do I not have the energy to deal with cutting mangos right now." They shared a laugh as Number Four bounced eagerly off the counter, took his plate, and then raced into the room without a word.  
  Dave, unsure what they were racing for, nearly stabbed himself grabbing a fork- two, specifically, because the energetic brunette had forgotten one- and tearing off after him. He had only just registered the empty room and the danger from behind the door when he whipped around a heartbeat too late to dodge a wrapped up towel across the ass, and he made quick work of setting his food on the table before starting an absolute wrestling match with his roommate, in which Klaus couldn't miss the ever so brief hesitation before Dave gripped him in a headlock and flung them both backwards onto the bed to avoid crashing into the bedposts or a wall.   
  He didn't let go immediately, and Klaus's bracing gave way to the faintest arch of his back as he tried to temper the fact that a very, very hot man was currently pinning his thin frame on top of himself, choking him, on a bed they'd shared on two separate occasions now, and ufortunate as it may be, Klaus was enjoying it way more than Dave would want him to be.  
  Klaus froze at the feeling of a sound in Dave's chest, but whatever noise or comment he made, he didn't take the clear window to reiterate it; rather, he freed the smaller soldier, shoving him over with a completely easygoing laugh, and sprung to his feet, arms folded over his chest. "Sneak attack didn't work too well, huh, brother?"   
  Number Four glared up at Dave, catching his breath and brushing messy hair back out of his eyes. "Maybe not this time," he replied, tone cool and eyes looking anywhere but at his roommate.  
  If Dave noticed, once again, he kept it to himself. 

  Food was easily the hardest thing for Klaus to accept from Dave, until it came time to go shopping. He'd never been one to keep a lot of personal belongings; most things he had, besides clothes, he pawned for drug money, and more often than not he slept wherever he felt like he might be concealed from the wind and potential violence. Dave offering to get him things like shoes, or a jacket, just to give him new things, was completely out of his range of comprehension. It also took a lot to turn Dave down, he found, and most of the day was a struggle between hurting the feelings of his generous, beautiful host, and riddling himself with guilt.   
  Dave finally took pity on the poor man and settled for just getting him a traditional lunch and a tattoo- still expensive, but Klaus spoke of his palm tattoos, however briefly and vaguely, as if he wanted to be something beyond what they represented, and Dave wanted a token of a good trip, anyways. He managed to talk Klaus into a matching set, one he knew plenty of other soldiers wandered around with, too- a skull with a rifle, and a mock of the Sky Soldiers patch. The name was coined for an attack the year before, of which Klaus wasn't fully aware and Dave wasn't willing to inform him. The artist took them both in stride, and later that evening the two left with sore arms and warm hearts.   
  It was takeout and in-home dinner for the night, where Dave revealed he had, in fact, bought Klaus a vest he had spotted with frayed hems around the sleeves, because it had reminded him of Klaus and he wasn't going to wait to be told no. Klaus was shy in accepting it, but nearly in tears with gratitude for this incredible man.   
  He put on the vest, practically vowing to never take it off, and sighed, slowly dropping back into the pillows. "You asked about my tattoos this morning, yeah?" he mused absently, toying with the fringe on a decorative pillow. Dave nodded.  
  "Well, I'll be frank, there's a lot I...  _could_ tell you, if I really wanted, but honestly, I'm not sure if I'd survive this war without you, so I'd prefer avoiding making you think I'm fucking insane. That said..." He nodded to the quizical expression on Dave's face as the blonde shifted to lean back on his elbows, commanding his gaze to not wander the painfully outstretched body beside him, "my hands are exactly what they look like. You might call me a.. gifted child." He let out a rough chuckle, humorless and dry. " Or a cursed one. I prefer the latter. Either way, do you believe in ghosts, Davey-boy?"  
 Another nod, eyes bright and attentive. God, he was perfect, wasn't he?  
 "I can see them. Talk to them, conjure them, technically, but it's usually just a bunch of them, surrounding me, getting in my face... all the time." Klaus set his jaw, uneasy referencing it so openly.   
  "So the night terrors..?"  
  Blanking momentarily, Klaus nodded in shock. That was... it? No demands for proof? No disbelief, no rolled eyes or laughing?  
  "And the meds.."  
  "Back in... Before, I was, uh.. highly self.. medicated..."   
  Dave absently scratched at his arm. His eyes looked distant suddenly, and the way his hand stilled for a moment on his forearm couldn't go unnoticed. Klaus took a moment, then sat up. Dots connected quickly, while he felt his blood turn to ice. "You-"  
  "I did, yeah," Dave answered in a rushed tone. "I don't... I'm not proud. I'm still a borderline alcoholic, but fuck, anything over needles, man. Anything." His voice almost broke, and Klaus's heart utterly shattered. The people he'd met in rehab all those times, they weren't... None of them were the strong, beautiful creature he was laying beside. None of them.   
  Dave let out a shaky breath, but his voice rang strong when he spoke up next and his eyes held fire and conviction. "I lost someone," he declared, looking ahead but not at his companion. "My mom. Dad lied about drinking at some social event for his company, drove home, hit someone head on. She died instantly, and dad was rich; they let him off easy, sent him home. Dad always raised me to put myself first, do right by me, and mom was the one person I loved more than-"   
  He stopped, eyes flickering over to Klaus for just a moment. He furrowed his brows, his jaw working in frustration. "Anyway. Sorry, I shouldn't have-"  
  "Hey, hey, no, it's fine! There wasn't... I don't have much else to say. I..." Finding the words to offer himself to Dave, in a hug, in a hold, in any way he might need was near impossible, but Dave caught on immediately, scooting down to lay flat and guiding Klaus to curl into him with a hand on the smaller man's back once he was in reach. The awkwardness Klaus expected from cuddling together while awake was nonexistent, and Dave made quick work of dispelling not only any level of nerves but also most conscious thought as he started fidgeting with Klaus's hair.  
 

  The moment of calming nerves and taking solace in each other's company and the steady sounds of easing breaths and slowing heartbeats wasn't spectacularly long, but Klaus knew that no high in the world could beat the feeling of the world melting away completely outside of any point where Dave touched his skin.


	3. I'm A Long Time Finding Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trauma-bonding is real, especially when you meet the one person you've ever seen who might possibly truly relate to the pain you've felt, and even more so when they can make it feel like none of it matters better than drugs ever could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is EASILY heavier than the others- self harm mentions, scar-talk, and more sexual commentary below. Please be warned <3  
> Also, I feel like my pacing is... odd? Suggestions and critique is SUPER welcomed, guys!! <3

  Klaus woke up sometime in the painfully early hours of morning, Dave fully asleep and almost fully underneath him. The lanky man froze with disappointment for a long moment, before he remembered their talk last night and very heavily relaxed.  
  He would never get over the beauty of Dave's face, he was sure. He had a look about him that was strong, and smart, but there was such a softness underneath. The warmest heart Klaus had ever seen, and the true gentleness he had was never more apparent than when he slept. The brunette could almost imagine his brother calling him creepy from over his shoulder, but it wasn't enough to stop staring at how perfect and precious Dave looked.   
  Eyes wandering, something caught Klaus's gaze. The faint mark of milky skin he'd expected, following their earlier conversation; the mark that made Klaus hold his own arm up beside Dave's, feeling a heavy ache in his chest. He knew what had driven him to using, the pain and the terror that consumed him until he thought he'd tear himself apart just to escape it. Maybe his empathy skills were a little clouded, but he burned with a solid rage when he thought of what, or who, might have pushed someone as incredible, as un-haunted, as  _strong_ as Dave down such a deep, terrible hole.  
   _Strong on the outside,_ Klaus thought to himself, feeling his face fall a little. He thought briefly of his family- specifically, Diego, who carried himself like a true vigilante, the real leader, but Klaus knew him well enough. He was soft, maybe the softest of all of them. A momma's boy with a stutter, hiding behind knives and intimidating scars. Much as he may tease him, he thought Diego was far more endearing that way. He felt more real than Luther, or Five, always seeming entirely sure of themselves, always so superior; or Allison, always paving her own way by force, really, regretting consequences after but never really learning.  
  Maybe Vanya was soft. Hell, he didn't really know.   
  Ben was always cool and collected, usually just reading. Not really soft, but not really cold or mean. Probably the most sensible of the seven.  
  And Klaus?  
  Klaus was soft. He was the softest. Numbed himself all his life, and stole and lied to keep it up, without even really trying to learn who or what he was, because he was afraid. Abandoned his responsibilities. Abandoned his family. Made a mockery of anything he cared about.  
  And he was crying, and had no idea until he watched a drop fall, and stopped brushing it off of Dave's arm when he saw more of that pale, smooth skin. This was a new mark. A longer mark. Precise, sharp, and-  
  Oh, God,  _why him?_  
There was something about self harm that had always made Klaus want to cry and scream and _destroy_   whatever had caused it. Maybe because he'd only seen it once before, on the other last person who should ever deserve it. Maybe because he'd always been too cowardly to partake, and the implications of someone dealing with enough pain to need it was terrifying to him.   
  But the faint scars that laced Dave's arm just made Klaus want to break down, and then pull him close, protect him, and never let him go. He'd never felt such a strong need to just  _exist_ for someone else. It was terrifying, and he didn't care.   
  He was so wrapped up in his thoughts, he didn't notice his companion stir, until he felt a gentle hand on the side of his face. He jumped, recoiling like a puppy who had never been touched beside to be hit, because frankly, that wasn't far from true. As if recognizing this, Dave pulled his hand back; Klaus, wanting his touch after realizing it was just him, leaned after it, and Dave smiled with the warmth of a man honored with rare trust as he reached out once more.  
  God, Number Four handled touch starvation like a champ, but with freely offered affection he took it in like a traveller at a desert oasis. He leaned into Dave's touch, shameless, craving the comfort and warmth it offered after seeing so much of Dave's hurt minutes before. It let him silence that part of his thoughts and just  _be_ with the soldier in front of him. He'd never been the best at that.   
  "B.. hey, Hargreeves, you doing alright?" Klaus barely noticed the stuttering hesitation in the way Dave addressed him; rather he felt his fingers trailing those soft lines of skin on Dave's arms, not fully focused, staring into his eyes as concern, then recognition, then almost apology flashed through the rich grey of his tired gaze. Dave took a moment looking hurt, regretful, before his face softened into... was it relief?   
  Klaus wanted to say something, but Dave ran his fingers through the brunette's messy hair and ever so faintly, maybe only in Klaus's imagination, withdrew his hand with a brief curl of  his fingers. The feather-light pull on Klaus's hair was enough to send him spinning, and a single choked note of exclamation escaped his lips before he bit his tongue in a panic. He immediately straightened. Tattooed hands flew to his own hair, toying with it just for something to do, as he prayed that Dave hadn't noticed.   
  Dave was an incredible man, especially in the regard that he always seemed to know when Klaus was afraid of implications and never made mention of them.   
  That, or, he really never noticed, but no one could ignore or dismiss that.   
  And he definitely wasn't. When Klaus met his eyes again, the brunette found himself being regarded strongly, not in disgust or mockery as he'd feared; if it weren't so dark, and he weren't so distracted, he might dare to say there was a hunger in Dave's bright eyes, eyes that didn't waver or look away. Eyes that stared, locked onto his own, with so much intensity Klaus thought it could destroy him if Dave so chose. He felt himself give the slightest shiver involuntarily, and Dave took in a deep, slow breath.  
  And then Dave blinked, and everything was gone. His breath let out easily, his face softened entirely, and he offered a small half-smile in the disarmingly beautiful, crooked little way he had. Klaus knew he should feel grateful, and part of him did, but most of him felt notably crestfallen. Dave had noticed, he'd seen options, weighed them, and made a choice.  
  And it wasn't Klaus. 

  Klaus knew far better than to press or question, on either issue. If Dave wanted to discuss his past, he could bring it up at any time. Klaus was sure he wouldn't mention the... other thing, as Number Four had begun to refer to it in his mind. Nothing more than that. A brief moment of interest between two fairly attractive people, currently on a very brief phase of freedom in the middle of war. Frustration was to be expected, and for a good, Godly boy like David had to be, it was apt to be more comfortable looking toward someone close, rather than 'renting' one of the consorts at the bars. That's all. Klaus was never one of the most morally sound people, but he wouldn't dare impose himself into a position of entitlement on a friend.  
  Friend. The word was warm, but also icy. Welcoming and divisive, needed with desperation but despised. A double-edged sword. Four had never been good with "friends" by any means, and now the one he might have successfully made that wasn't a sibling, he wants nothing more than to hold close, and lay against, and sleep beside, and feel his lips on his own and his hands in his hair and his hips-  
  "Hargreeves!"   
  Klaus nearly leapt out of his skin, dropping the cigarette he was trying to light as he was stepping out onto the balcony. Dave had gone to start some laundry for the both of them before their day plans, and get breakfast together, and the brunette hadn't heard him approach. He rushed to pick up the cigarette and turn to face the railing after acknowledging Dave; the strong call of his name after such a reverie had made his particular position a rather vulnerable one, especially in these thin cotton lounge pants, and that wasn't a conversation he wanted to have just then.  
  "You doing okay, soldier? You're usually rushing out for breakfast when I call you." Dave had that half-grin again that melted Klaus entirely, and at this point the medium was pretty much done trying to censor his own thoughts from himself- he just hoped he was careful enough to not let his eyes linger on that smile too long, before it got him into trouble.   
  He had taken to a cigarette first thing, though, and that had gotten a little rare. It was odd. Usually he needed a near-constant flow of  _something,_ but he'd found himself using a fair amount less with Dave. That thought scared him as much as it pleased him.  
  "Yeah, yeah, sorry, Davie, a lot on the mind this morning it would seem." He wasn't exactly lying, but part of him did feel bad for downplaying it so much.  
  That familiar hand rested on the back of his neck, and he carefully let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Let me finish this, unless you want to join me, and I'll be in for breakfast, yeah?"  
  God, the glint of concern in Dave's eyes wasn't masked by his easy smile in the slightest, and Klaus felt entirely broken by him.   
  "Davie. 'S cute, Hargreeves," was the only reply, followed by a wink and a squeeze on the back of Klaus's neck as the blonde turned to finish breakfast. They both went without reacting to the smaller man's sharp exhale at the pressure around his neck, and when Dave had rounded the corner toward the kitchen, Klaus grumbled unintelligibly about him being a cruel, terrible, teasing soldier until his cigarette was down to the butt and he could snuff it out and- with a quick change into some blessedly restrictive jeans- follow his brother-in-arms to the smell of eggs and ham in the kitchen.

-

  That third day was a fairly quiet one; not a lot got done, no wild shopping trips, no crazy bar sprees. Dave did pick up a couple intriguing wines at a little market, and some local movies they said they'd watch but couldn't understand and didn't focus on, and Klaus was even talked into walking through a surprisingly big park, where they crossed paths with a couple other soldiers- each of them with tiny, youthful Thai women on their arms. The sight made Klaus uncomfortable, and he was happy both that the soldiers, while greeting him and Dave amicably enough, weren't close friends, and that Dave took a noticeable step to the side as they approached as if reluctant to associate with them.   
  "They're alright guys, from what I know of them," Dave mused softly when they were out of earshot. "But I don't like that whole... system. There's another place a lot of soldiers go for that, I think it's Hong Kong, but you pay the girl herself. They're all basically owned by the bars here." He shook his head in discomfort, and Klaus nodded along with a look of disgust.   
  "I forget the times, you know, so much has changed." A casual remark that earned him a look of playful inquiry, reminding him that,  _oh yeah,_ no one believed him about time travel. He grew sheepish, but Dave clapped his shoulder a couple times and brushed it off. "You got any more of that story, Hargreeves?"

  The Umbrella Academy, as it turned out, did make for excellent storytelling, and Dave was an excellent listener. Klaus prattled off all their adventures, or what he remembered of them, circling back every so often around a hazy patch of drugs or fabricated excuses and lies to tell his father/siblings/authorities, for what felt like hours. He ran through his siblings, their powers, the ever-shortening span of time between his current timeline and the apocalypse. "Hell," he noted once, "it's been a few months. For all I know, the apocalypse has hit the future and ran, and I'm all that's left, all the way back here." It was lighthearted, but the words struck a chord in him as he spoke.  
  He didn't notice his footsteps slow to a halt until he dropped into a crouch, arms around his knees. He was trembling, only faintly, but flashes of his siblings' faces were racing through his mind like they did in his nightmares the first few nights in the A Shau Valley, looking less like mental images and more like ghosts the longer he sat there until he pinned his hands to his ears and buried his face between his knees.   
  "No, no, no, no, no, no, no-" Hands grabbed his shoulders, but he couldn't focus. He heard his name assaulting him on all sides, Allison and Five and Diego...  
  And Ben. Ben hadn't been in his dream; the apocalypse wouldn't affect someone who was already dead. He hadn't followed Klaus here, either. He hadn't been around when Klaus opened the briefcase.   
  But he was there now. His voice rang out over everyone else's, blaming him. If he wasn't such a shitty junkie, he wouldn't take the briefcase hoping for money, wouldn't be stuck in Vietnam, wouldn't have left them behind to face the apocalypse without him, wouldn't have left Ben alone to greet everyone when they went down, to tell them Klaus was gone once again like they always expected him to be; the family disappointment.  
  If he hadn't opened that briefcase, he wouldn't have dropped into a tent in the middle of an air raid in the Vietnam War. He wouldn't be a soldier, wouldn't know how to fight for something, anything at all, wouldn't know how to carry himself like he mattered to a cause. He wouldn't have the memory of the kindest steel eyes that had ever been gifted to a human being, would never know how utterly time-stopping a single steady hand on the back of his neck could be, would never find a purpose or passion outside of getting high, getting wasted, and then getting more high when he came around. He'd never find a thrill outside of defibrillators.   
  He wasn't aware he had thrown himself into Dave's arms until he became aware of another heartbeat, hard against its cage but considerably steadier than his own, beating against his skin. He felt both slow together, moment by moment, beat by beat. The feeling of being so close to someone you could feel their heart on your own chest was exhillerating, unspeakably so. Klaus felt himself still trembling, but he couldn't bring himself to worry about it. The subtle scent of aftershave surrounding him had him melting into the stronger frame of his companion until he felt steady enough to tighten his arms and return the gentle huge he was receiving in a wordless thanks.  
  The moment was fairly brief, but his mind was racing. No one, nothing, had ever just broken his panic. Ben could temper it, ease it down, like he'd done in the hotel closet when Hazel and Cha-Cha were gone, but he could never fully silence it. They could go on for hours.  
  Dave just stood there, and held him, and that alone drowned it all.   
  How had Klaus survived before now?  
  The brunette stepped back carefully, shaking steadiness back into his limbs, and looked up at Dave with wide, timid eyes. He saw the strength in the returned gaze, the understanding, the conviction, and felt very, very small. With a long blink to try and regain composure, he broke their eye contact, but he felt Dave's stare linger.  
  Then, in a voice softer than Klaus thought possible, the blonde finally spoke. "You... weren't making that up, somehow.. were you?"  
  Curiosity, no judgement. Number Four peered up under his lashes, feeling very much like a child, and very slightly shook his head.   
  Dave's face broke into a soft smile. "That's... you're incredible, Hargreeves." The sincerity and almost pride in the sentiment was unlike anything that had ever been directed toward the medium before.  
  Klaus almost fell apart.

-

  "I had planned tonight for getting damn-near shitfaced somewhere cheap, but you know what, someone in this duo needs a heavy dose of self-care, and that won't happen here alone or out at some gross one-star club, so that clearly means that it's exotic wine and some kind of drama or music. Yeah?"   
  Dave's grin was infectious. "Katz, come on, don't sacrifice one of your last three nights of freedom and bliss because your scrawny junkie tagalong saw the scary ghosts again." Klaus was relieved that conversation had just become entirely easy. Dave was magical, he was convinced, and no one could prove him wrong.   
  "Wrong," Dave announced, echoing his thoughts entirely out of context. "I'm  _saving_ my liver. I might just want to live past this war." A wink, the fourth that day- he only kept up more frequently now, and Klaus mildly resented him for it. "And, what is this..  _Katz_ business, huh?"  
  "That's... your name?"  
  "Name's  _Dave,_ soldier. You never call me Katz."  
  "You call me Hargreeves."  
  Dave paused then, turned and regard Klaus with that smirk of his.  _"Klaus,"_ he practically purred, voice almost sultry. Klaus felt his face burn instantly, his eyes widening just enough to notice, and he saw a spark in Dave's eyes. This was entirely intentional. That  _bastard._    
  Two could play that game. He composed himself quickly, tucking his chin and widening his eyes, peering up under his lashes and leaning close to Dave's face. "Oh,  _David,"_ he cooed, half breathless and practically whimpering. "Say it again,  _oh.."_    
  Klaus watched Dave's jaw tense at the soft whine he gave at the end of his request, which was damn lucky for Klaus.  
  Dave also was nothing if not hardheaded, which was  _very unlucky for Klaus._  
  The muscular blonde leaned even closer, his weight on the hand that he placed on the kitchen table beside the smaller soldier as his other hand found Klaus's chin, tilted his head upward, and held him where their eyes were locked, running a thumb down Klaus's throat and drawing a shiver he couldn't hold back.   
  "Sweet Klaus," Dave nearly growled, and his smirk grew more in eagerness than smugness, though Klaus couldn't see a difference. "I can't say it too much, or I'll wear it out before I need it to count." His fingers trailed faintly down the sides of Klaus's neck as he stepped back, and for his own benefit, Klaus was far too dazed- and, frankly, too damn turned on- to see the red creeping into Dave's face before he turned safely back to the stove to measure his own breathing.  
  The brunette felt the remnants of his feelings this morning, of the quick work Dave made of closing him off from feelings and settling into a fully neutral, unbothered expression after accidentally pulling- literally- a whimper from the medium, and was nothing now if not entirely conflicted.  _It's just... banter,_ he convinced himself, or rather,  _tried_ to convince himself.  _If it meant something, he'd have acted. He's too straightforward. Just play along, idiot._ He set his jaw, silently resigning himself. He'd play, he'd be a friend. Just a friend. At least he had that much.

  More wine led to more of these shameless, juvenile rounds of teasing, and for as much as it should have been precisely that simple and innocent, both of them knew, if they hadn't already, that with each witty one-liner or sultry purr of their name from the other to catch them off guard, they were being driven into utter, spiralling madness.   
  And neither of them could find it anywhere in their spirits to have even a shred of a single, half-assed complaint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This hurts to write.  
> I just want it to be so gay, and I'm making myself take my time and use more emotional descriptors because I tend to just lose that sometimes, and ooooof.  
> Soon, I promise!! >:]


	4. I've Only Ever Wandered Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wait a minute...  
> Does this sound familiar, or is it just me? >;]  
> AKA, *fucking finally*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I usually just come back for notes after writing the chapter, but this is the one I've been wanting to write since the beginning, and I'm probably gonna get into a frenzy and just dump all the gay shit on at once.  
> So, uhhh, probably sex incoming. Oops.  
> Also, may be some slurs in there- only LGBT+ slurs, because those are the only ones I can use. (I'm agender and pan)  
> Didn't want any alarm! <3

  "You wanna go out?"   
  Klaus almost spit out his wine, whipping his head around to stare in disbelief at Dave. "Ex-squeeze me?"  
  "What? I- wait... oh yeah." Dave let out loud, and deeply infectious laughter, until both he and Klaus had tears on their cheeks and sore stomachs. "I meant- I meant to a club," he corrected, stumbling over his words.  
  "Fuck it, let's go," Klaus slurred faintly. He stood up, surprisingly steadier than he expected. "Daveyyy," he sang. His brows furrowed. "What do I wearrr?"  
  Dave hauled himself to his feet, rummaging through a duffel that Klaus didn't realize wasn't his until the pinstripe jeans Dave wore the first night clubbing were shoved into his hands.   
  "You've got the ass for these, pretty boy, let me come home after all this and tell my shit dad I had two soldiers in the  _fag pants_ he always hated. Me and you. Enjoy that heart attack, Pops, you old bastard!"   
  Klaus wanted to revel in the fact that he was called pretty, and made the subject of an innuendo, by the blonde, but he was struck with a sobering concern until Dave caught his eye and softened.  
  "Hey, sorry... it's.. that was probably.. not comfortable." Dave looked awkward, his voice much more solid than it was moments ago. Klaus smiled. "I understand you, maaaannn. If my shit dad weren't dead, I'd tell him I was in your pants. In Bangkok! Yaaaayy! They'll parade us in the streets!" He wasn't really lying, but Dave wouldn't understand that now, so he kept that to himself and just raised his wine glass in a cheer with Dave that ended in too-loud laughter.  
  Number Four took ages to finally settle on a shirt, a cropped tee with yellow striping that just seemed cheery and lovely for a good wine-drunk night out. He stood in front of the bathroom mirror, bantering with himself about whether or not he could justify eyeliner, and finally settling for a careful and subtle line to appease his usual self.   
  The pants were lovely and flattering around his legs, with a bit of room around the hips, and that, in more ways than one, quickly became problematic for him. Thankfully, he was drunk, and assured himself it would go unnoticed as he stepped out of the bathroom to prepare to leave.  
  And it did- but  _he_ didn't.  
  Dave glanced over as he approached, looked back at his duffel, then did a picture perfect double take, shamelessly looking over the medium with wide eyes and then a smirk. "Well, damn, soldier," came his light slur, "remind me to set up your room before we go, you're bringing home company."   
  Klaus felt himself blush, and quickly shook his head. "No company, brother. Just drinks and music. I'm not getting attached in a war zone."  _Again,_ he added to himself, watching Dave's hunched form shake with laughter.   
  "Trust me, Hargreeves. That's a rule so many of us make, and it's too damn easy to break."   
  Dave brushed past him into the bathroom, and Klaus felt immobile, feeling nothing but a flutter in his chest at the very pointed look he HAD to be imagining Dave giving him just then.  
  ...right?

  This was a very different club from the first one they'd gone to two nights ago. Weak, warm lighting, big red fixtures on the ceiling and around the bar, and tons of soldiers Klaus didn't recognize- most of them in navy uniforms. He was surprised they were allowed to WEAR their uniforms. He'd had to turn his in. Though- he looked a little closer at some of them. One man in particular turned around and barely had a face left, and Klaus flinched. He'd taken less of his meds than usual that day, and it was haunting him. Lliterally. But the solider didn't call out to the medium like corpses usually did.  
  A couple minutes of watching people, and he realized most of these soldiers seemed to just linger in the club, wanting to be surrounded by familiar energy from living troops on leave. For the first time in his life, he watched corpses lingering and dancing all around him, and besides one man who caught his eye and gave almost a relieved grin to be seen when the girl he was pretending he was dancing with scampered through him to meet another man, not one of them made any move to stop dancing. He'd never once felt comfortable with the dead before this moment, and the relaxation he felt in his shoulders felt like he'd been waiting years for it.  
  There were girls everywhere, and almost no civillian men. Klaus looked over at Dave's wide grin, and though his smile was infectious and Number Four was very giddily wine-drunk, he felt his face fall a bit. Of course, after so many moments of emotional turmoil between them over the last couple days, any sensible man would want to get his dick wet and forget about all the bullshit.   
   _Would be a lot simpler to do that without leaving home._  
The pining brunette sighed. _He's not yours. Remember what we agreed on. Don't fuck this up, too.  
  _Ah, yes. His inner monologue had been taken over by Ben's disembodied voice, which was mildly eerie only because Ben was always just  _there,_ and he wasn't in Vietnam.   
  He supposed it was helpful, though. He'd much sooner listen to Ben than to himself.   
  But his musings were being cut off as a shot glass full of whiskey was pressed toward his face, and he gave his head a sharp shake as though flicking his hair back, clearing his mind. Linking arms with Dave was practically muscle memory the second he close his fingers around a shot glass, and his eyes were open just long enough to catch Dave's- or, he would have, if they weren't very clearly angled at Klaus's shot.  
  That's what Klaus told himself, even despite the fact that Dave looked back up when the brunette paused, and that his steel eyes widened for just a moment before he fucking winked again.  
  Klaus grabbed a couple shots of his own quite soon after, hoping to temper himself. It didn't help.   
  He had gotten his fourth, but was holding off, not entirely sure why, when Dave stepped up to the bar beside him. He was all smiles, but both men seemed to be oddly hesitant in making eye contact. Klaus couldn't figure out why.  
  A dainty Thai woman slid smoothly between Dave and the bar, hands running over his sides as she grinned up at him. Klaus aimed a very pointed smile at the bartender, refusing to watch Dave smile warmly at her and turn to keep facing her. She stepped between the soldiers, and it was like an ice wall slammed up against Klaus, a slap in the face, a sharp cut of whatever connection he wanted to imagine they had.  _Friends. Brothers-in-arms. Friends._    
   _You don't even belong here._   _You have no right to want him._

  Klaus felt a tug on his elbow that jarred him from his self-berating. He turned in confusion as he saw Dave, smiling brightly, no girl in sight.  
  "Wha-"  
  "You never made up that complaint to me before breakfast. Come on. This song is great and I totally missed the first half." Dave's eager grin was more than enough to slash Klaus's negativity into ribbons.   
  The lanky man followed his companion onto the dancefloor, and within seconds they both were lost amidst the crowd, the booze warming Klaus's body and making him almost float, even if his dancing was all elbows and legs and entirely uncoordinated. He didn't have a care in the world, and even when he nearly ate shit colliding with someone who danced into him from behind, he turned to face the offender and only saw Dave, and nothing else really mattered.  
  He shook a fist at Dave, a painfully empty threat, with his nose scrunched up in precious fake anger, and Dave just watched him, a half-smile on his face, not unamused so much as just in a blissful daze.  
  They kept up their dancing until songs blended together, and Klaus had never felt such a strong need to just be closer to someone, infinitely closer. They found a comfort and dancing back to back a lot, spinning or circling around each other, always glancing over shoulders to cast hazed grins at each other, but never touching. Dave would take a wide step to Klaus's other side, and Klaus would twirl to follow him. Klaus would lean to one side, Dave would lean opposite, over and over until people, the corpse-soldiers especially, were watching them with good-natured smiles and laughter. Spirits were high, dead and living. It was almost all Klaus could ever ask for- he just begged the world to change, to give him just this moment to grab this beautiful man and kiss him and hold him and never have to let go, or fear for their lives, even moreso.  
  One man, left arm blown to pieces, who had been quietly swaying in the corner as if he knew revealing himself would be too jarring for Klaus, approached the young man with apprehension. They met eyes, Klaus working hard to not show the interaction in his body language.   
  "There, young man." The old soldier pointed with a slow hand to an empty corner on the far side of the room, away from the music and mildly concealed behind a short extension of the inner wall and then a beaded curtain. He tilted his head for a moment before realization struck him, and he felt his face redden. But his heart swelled, and he gave a brief, but deeply grateful smile to the old man, only to find he had disappeared.   
  "I'm gonna get us some drinks, Davie, you wait here for me," Klaus cooed, spinning on his heel and reaching up to pat Dave's cheek in what absolutely looked like friendly taunting. Dave's eyes flickered down again. Klaus resisted the urge to bite his lip.  
   _You gonna ignore that, lover-boy?  
  _"Dammit, Ben, will you just... pick a side, or hush?" Klaus muttered with a slur as he made his way to the bar. Not-Ben was right, though- that was clear. Obvious. There was no drink, nothing Dave could have possibly been looking at that wasn't Klaus's mouth. Just like Klaus had been looking at his since he arrived in Vietnam.  
   _But there's no way..._  
   _No._ Dammit, Not-Ben.  
"Drop. Dead."  
_Low. Blow!_  
"You aren't real! It doesn't matter!" The medium reached the bar, much more bright-eyed than the last time, and blinked away the trails of the conversation he was having with himself to order "your finest drinks for a couple tortured soldiers, please, _mon cher."_ He beamed up at the bartender and turned to lean his back against the counter, surveying the room.   
  The couples were beautiful, no matter how fake and contracted some clearly were. There was a tiny scattering of Sky Soldiers he recognized, but only vaguely. Most of them had gone into Hawaii, some into one of the more expensive cities around Asia. Hong Kong was excellent for fine shopping, apparently.   
  The girls, for what it was worth, seemed to be genuinely enjoying themselves. Klaus was glad for that at least.  
  And Dave.   
  Beautiful, excellent Dave.   
  He danced on his own amidst the crowd, not a care in the world. The man who had looked so grounded and involved minutes before now seemed entirely on his own, isolated- but not negatively so. His face with bright with peace. Klaus recognized himself in the image of David Katz he saw before him, lost entirely in music and shutting off anything else that might distract him.  
  Klaus had only ever done this to escape pain, and that's where his own imagery stopped in Dave. Dave was a beacon of joy pressed close to the speakers, with the disco ball shining dapples of light onto his beautiful face.   
  The bartender tapped his shoulder to inform him the drinks were done, two short glasses with blonde-colored liquor that smelled fruity, topped with cherries. Klaus didn't bother to ask what they were, too eager to return to Dave and see if the old corpse knew what he was talking about.  
  Dave's big puppy-dog grin at Klaus's return made the small man freeze, heart fluttering for a moment he knew was too long to go unnoticed. He couldn't tell if Dave's faintly flushed cheeks were from him, or the alcohol.   
  Despite his big plans of leading Dave away from the crowd, Klaus found his mind blank. If Dave hadn't been staring at him in the middle of the dancefloor when he turned and looked at the corner, Klaus wasn't sure if they'd ever have made it there.  
  "Want a little quiet?" Dave inquired. He leaned close to Klaus's ear so he didn't have to yell, and the warm breath against his neck made him shiver. Dave's smirk suggested he noticed.  
  "Wherever you want to go, Katz."  
  A pointed, playful glare. "Hargreeves."  
   _"David."  
_   _"Klaus."_  
  Fuck.

  The drinks were sweet, wonderfully so. Klaus found his head spinning in the loveliest way, and he dropped his shoulder against the wall once they broke the curtain. Dave had gone straight for the more hidden wall, too. Klaus couldn't ignore that.  
  The blonde let out a pleasant sigh. His smile lingered on his face, and his eyes closed softly, and he was utterly, painfully beautiful.   
  "Tell me about the future, Klaus." It was gentle, casual. Klaus felt his heart skip a beat. Someone genuinely wanted to hear what he had to say? Entrusted him with accuracy of something so unfathomably obscure as somehow actually being from the future?  
  And above all that, it was a soldier from the 60's, and not one of the more understanding of his siblings, like Allison?  
  "Really?"  
  "Absolutely. It'd be miraculous to make it... what, you said, 2019? 50-some-odd years? After the war?" He chuckled, oddly at ease. "Nah. I might make it out, and then I'll... I dunno. I'll get a place somewhere. Might get lucky and meet somebody." Dave looked at Klaus, face warm but a little sad. "You ever had a dog, Klaus? I've always wanted to get a dog."  
  God, Klaus was in love. "Never had a dog, big guy. We had a monkey though."  
  Dave's alarm made Klaus burst out laughing. His drink nearly sloshed out of the glass. "I meant it, soldier! I want the real shit!"  
  "Bold of you to assume I was lying."  
  Dave looked at him with near-challenge in his eyes before laughing and shaking his head. "Fine, I'll bite."  
  "Ooh, you promise?"   
  "Is that a request, Hargreeves?"  
  "Only if you're gentle, I'm a sensitive, tortured soul." Klaus's free hand came to rest dramatically on his chest, his brows furrowed in mock concern, and Dave's eyes followed his hand and rested there for a brief moment before he seemed to make up his mind and look Klaus over completely.   
  "Tell me," Dave repeated, softer but also with a low tone to it Klaus had never heard before that made him his head spin in a way alcohol never could, "and maybe you'll find out."  
  It was a bold comment, for sure, but holy fuck, was it effective. Klaus blushed, strongly, and stumbled over his words. "Right, right, y-yeah, the future. Ah, well it's, uh... I mean there's not... it sucks," he settled on, finally. "Not, you know, like war. But you definitely shouldn't envy me if you want to get your own house and a dog." His chuckle was dry. "Everything costs a soul, and nowhere pays enough to live. I'm something of a street rat myself, but that's because I don't care too much for where I sleep as long as I'm high." Laughing at his own expense was easy, and Dave just nodded solemnly, and Klaus remembered that he likely understood all too well.   
  "On the plus side, a lot of bullshit has been called out, so there's that. Actually, we've got about a year before the queer folk start throwing bricks at cops and rioting." He wasn't aware of his grin spreading, or his absolute confession, until it was already done. "I could be married someday, Dave. Married, to whoever I damn well please."   
  And then his eyes were wide, and then screwed tightly closed, because if he'd just been overly imaginative in his hopefulness, he might have just lost Dave entirely, and he'd be alone, just like he always was.   
  Fingertips, hesitant and soft, brushed his hand where his was gripping his glass, and he opened his eyes to see Dave just...  _staring._  His face was full of understanding, and Klaus felt himself shifting, turning to face him, as every shred of his body wanted to break down and just  _beg_ for his acceptance.  
  Dave's hand found Klaus's cheek, his fingers running gently over the side of the wiry soldier's face and sliding back into thick, dark hair, and Klaus melted against his touch, long lashes fluttering closed. He was leaning in, almost without realizing it, and almost dropping his glass.  
  But he opened his eyes, and Dave was just as close to him. If he was breathing, it was too shallow for Klaus to feel, and his eyes were locked on Klaus's mouth. His hand drifted with painful slowness from dark hair to a sharp jaw, and Klaus let out a shaky breath he didn't know he was holding.  
   _Kiss him, you fucking idiot!  
  _"Eat a dick, Ben!" Klaus whispered almost inaudibly through clenched teeth. His brother's name was lost, however, on the lips of the blonde soldier. 

  Klaus felt lightening in his veins. His heart was pounding like mortars on concrete, and he was surprised he was upright with how delightfully dizzy he was. Dave was so much  _softer_ than he'd ever expected, his fingertips leaving electric trails over any expanse of pale skin they brushed. A strong arm curled around his lower back, pulling him so close until their hips were flush, and judging by Dave's immediate muffled, growling moan into Klaus's mouth, it wasn't a one-sided problem.  
  Dave, apparently, had just as faulty self-preservation skills as Klaus did, though, because he only tightened his grip, and  _god,_ Klaus was living for the low whimpers he gave every time he would so much as shift his weight. The ideas racing through his mind, the need for those sounds, was utterly intoxicating. He might have been really fucking drunk, but this.. this surpassed everything.   
  "Klaus-"  
  Klaus knew that tone. That apologetic, unsure, "we should wait before you regret this" tone. He was having none of it. Dave's past, his insecurities, anything anyone had said to him before to hurt him, none of it mattered. None of it had a place here. His hands found hips- blessed, delightful, toned hipbones that nearly killed him to curl his tattooed palms around- and pressed backward, deeply enjoying the immediate cut of Dave's voice and the swift darkening of his vibrant eyes as his back hit the wall and Klaus dug his nails lightly into muscular sides.   
  "How long have you thought about this?" Klaus questioned softly, leaning close to him and tilting his head in curiosity.  
  Dave stared at him like nothing else existed, and Klaus felt like the world existed only in this tiny corner. "Since the moment I saw you." He met Klaus's eyes again, distracted smile faint but still blinding. "You?"  
  Klaus broke into the smile of a man who had just found the first real home he's ever known. "Every day of my life."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kept myself in control, look at me go!  
> SHIT I love these boys, holy hell, guys.   
> Next chapter gonna be G A Y.  
> Please leave kudos for all the tears I shed watching super painful and beautiful MVs on YouTube for references to the scene in the Thai club, thnx


	5. It's A Savage Sea We're Made To Roam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was no shame, whatsoever, in writing this. I hope the drawn out fluff was worth it for everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an explicit chapter, PLEASE read with discretion- this is basically just two attractive, consenting adults in the middle of a war. VERY BRIEF SUI ATTEMPT MENTION AT THE VERY END.  
> SHAMELESS.  
> I haven't written smut... really, since my Pitch Perfect fics from 2015, and I've only been involved with AFAB folks, so I can't promise perfect accuracy here, but it's fun regardless.  
> Appreciate my various headcanons for their preferences.

  Cab rides were hell, really.   
  The apprehension, the second-guessing, was palpable in the air. Klaus wasn't sure who had it worse.   
  He didn't dare try to grab Dave's hand or offer physical comfort. Lord knew he had no idea what actual laws were like in Thailand, especially in 1968 of all damn times. Even America was still a year off from the start of the ball rolling in favour of equality. He was nervous. Dave wasn't looking at him.   
  A faint silhouette of a young, dark-skinned man seemed to flicker in the passenger seat, translucent and almsot glitchy in a way that made Klaus somehow far more unsettled than regular corpses did. When he turned, he didn't say anything, but he looked as pleading as one could with a face covered in lacerations and bruises and eyes swollen shut. Klaus turned away, and the apparition was gone when he looked back.   
  Thankfully, Dave was very much still there, and he was finally looking at Klaus, concerned and a little nervous. When Klaus smiled in reassurance, he realized how foreign it felt to actually mean it when he said he was alright.

  He'd thought the cab ride seemed endless, but when they got dropped off he suddenly felt frozen. He hadn't prepared himself enough for this, and now he was, frankly, just... terrified. He stared up the walkway of the apartment and suddenly felt really small and really vulnerable. It was like the first night all over again.  
  Dave's hand suddenly settled on the small of his back, and he couldn't help jumping a little. But Dave had only his easy, perfect smile for Klaus, and the little ball of nerves found himself relaxing immediately into the reassuring touch. It was completely different from the usual hand on his neck, a new level of intimacy that still made Klaus a little nervous, but also very, very excited.   
  The taxi driver moved off from the curb, finally, and Dave pressed his fingertips slightly into Klaus's skin to move him forward. The blonde unlocked the door and pushed it open, but he grabbed Klaus's shirt and held him back from entering. His movements were slow, careful; it wasn't clear if he was anxious and hesitant, or offering a window of refusal at every point, but he turned the smaller soldier and scooped him up bridal style, finally breaking Klaus's nervous silence with adoring laughter.  
  They stepped into the apartment, this time avoiding the fall they'd had last time despite being even more drunk this time around. But Dave was far from the stumbling, giggling mess he'd been before. His eyes were sparkling, but dark, pupils wide. Klaus froze in his arms and shivered when he looked down into them.  
  Dave was a smooth man. A smooth man who had spent a fair amount of time envisioning, plotting, and choreographing many possibilities. Dropping Klaus's legs, pressing him to his chest, and gripping the back of his right thigh to hook it around his hip at the same time as he spun them both around to push Klaus's back against the door took a fair amount of pre-planning to perfect, and the fact that he pulled it off made him utterly giddy. His big, dorky grin made that entirely apparent.  
  It was properly replaced with utter lust at the sharp, guttural, growling moan that Klaus let out as he hit the door and secured both legs around Dave's hips, his own rolling ever so slightly in his greed.  
  Dave practically lunged for his mouth. The soft, exploring kiss from the club was far behind them. Dave was strength, teeth, and flame. Every inch of Klaus's body that the blonde touched was on fire, and he fucking loved it.   
  A firm hand found its way into dark, shaggy hair, and just as quickly as Klaus hummed at the gentle contact, he was crying out at his head being pulled back and lips and teeth trailing the curves of his throat. He was very pleased to notice that he could feel Dave's excitement whenever whimpers escaped his lips. The discovery made him curl his nails into muscular shoulders and leverage himself off the door to press his hips harder into Dave's.   
  "You know, Davey," Klaus gasped out as Dave's lips ghosted his jaw. "You always struck me as more of a... churchly boy." He sucked in a breath at a soft bite from the blonde.  "Didn't exactly see any of my  _glorious daydreams_ coming to fruition-"  
   _"Hargreeves,"_ Dave growled into his ear. It absolutely worked to silence the man. "I'll meet you in the room in five."   
  He was gentle in setting Klaus down, tilting his chin up for a slow kiss the only served to make the medium even needier, and then he turned off with a wink and headed towards the hall bathroom neither of them used, leaving the bedroom and its bathroom open to Klaus.   
  Number Four padded slowly down the carpeted hall, pausing outside of the second bedroom- his, technically, but he'd not set foot in there the entire time they'd been in Bangkok.  
  What an ironic city for two men to fall in love.

  Klaus stood against the doorframe of the master bathroom, trying to steady himself. Splashing cool water on his face had helped a bit, but he felt uneasy, like he was being watched.  
   _You literally get stalked by corpses, idiot._  
"Thanks, Ben. Are you gonna sit around and watch the show, too?" Klaus muttered, flipping off the air around him. "Said with love! Kisses! Muah!" He downed a few pills with a shake of his head and stared at himself in the mirror.  
  The darkness of the room behind him that he hadn't bothered to turn lights on in would usually be unsettling and probably full of corpses, but they didn't seem to be too bothered. In fact, most of the trip had been fairly corpse-free. He wasn't sure if the dead back home just knew about him enough to tell their friends, or if something was blocking his powers, but it was the closest to normal he had ever felt. The realization allowed his shoulders to relax some.   
  Warm fingers slid around the curve of his hip bone and pressed in in a gentle grip. The pressure on sensitive hips made his lashes flutter, and he was biting his lip when his eyes opened again to find the dark room outside the doorway now filled with the muscular and very shirtless frame of his soldier.  
_His._ The word made Klaus nervous, but it felt very, very nice.  
  Dave's grip loosened and his fingertips skimmed over the sensitive skin of Klaus's side, pausing as he caught sight of the open bottle of meds and shot Klaus a worried glance in the mirror. "Everything okay, Hargreeves?"   
  Klaus met his look with a smile. "Much better than it usually is." he smirked, mischief in his eyes, and faced the blonde. With palms against Dave's hips he pushed back, pressing the taller brute against the doorframe and curling his fingers into the waistband of blissfully well-fitted khakis. Klaus slid his hands slowly toward the zipper, revelling in the warmth of Dave's skin and the fluttering of muscles as his breath caught.   
  Number Four wouldn't call himself particularly promiscuous- others definitely would, whether he'd claim it or not, but that was beside the point. Regardless of how one would label the haunted man, he had his fair share of experiences, and his smooth efficiency with unbuttoning jeans singlehandedly was nothing if not impressive.  
  But it was a cheap party trick.  
  Klaus looked into Dave's eyes and saw strong, commanding energy, someone he could trust to lead and do right by him. He felt safe and protected, even with the wild excitement glinting back at him among steel and glittering adoration. So here, rather than feeling expected or obligated to be, he felt eager to lower himself to one knee, then two, and pull that bronzed button apart with teeth that ached for something softer between them.   
  Dave's stuttering moan made his head spin, and he grinned against pale skin where he trailed agonizingly slow kisses. Any other time, he'd be a tease, dragging the night out to build the reaction of whichever lover he had taken for the evening. No one ever permanent, no one to be attached to. No one to let down.   
  Klaus found himself even slower than usual, because he wanted- needed- to savor the moment he had with Dave. He expected a fleeting encounter the moment their lips met. There was no room for people like them, not yet. He made it his mission, one all his own, to show David Katz all the adoration and care he had for him, all the strength and care and utter beauty he saw in him. He couldn't erase whatever pain had left its marks on hardened skin before him, but he could offer himself in whatever time they had available to try and prove to this angel before him that it was never deserved.  
  A hand found its way into Klaus's hair again. He hummed against the curve of Dave's hipbone, fingers tucking into grey boxers, but before he could advance further the hand was gripping and pulling him to his feet with an utterance of his name that sounded way more like a whimper than the assertive growl he would have expected.   
  Dave didn't speak, though he looked like he'd meant to. He just stared at the other man. His grip loosened and his hand skimmed through messy hair, down to the heated skin of Klaus's neck where it paused. The slightest tilt of Dave's head was the only warning before he wrapped his palm around Number Four's eager throat, pressing slowly into the sides of his neck and making bright green eyes roll backward and slim legs weaken.  
  Katz's chuckle sounded more like a purr in that moment, and Klaus wasn't aware Dave was shoving his slacks off until he started to tug desperately at the pinstriped pants he'd lent his companion for the evening. Not tearing them in his eager, whining haste to assist Dave was a feat of itself.  
  Klaus followed Dave with haste in his backwards hurry toward the bed, and the two practically let themselves just wait to catch their knees on the mattress and fall over onto it. The moment Dave pulled himself back farther onto the bed Klaus was climbing over him, straddling his hips and immediately grinding into him. Both men melted into labored breathing at the suddenly much closer contact, with only thin cotton between them now. Klaus felt like every instance of arousal he'd felt since arriving in Vietnam was coming back to him, and while trying to just rut it out against Dave's regrettably clothed cock wasn't anywhere close to providing relief, the lust mixed with the booze was excitingly dizzying and he felt absolutely high on it.   
  "Klaus.. get-" Dave arched his back under Klaus and pawed pretty uselessly at the scrawny soldier's briefs. Klaus, with a dazed grin, slipped back off the bed and made quick work of his boxers and then Dave's, with a moment of shyness prompting him to crawl back up to kiss Dave before either of them could get much of a look at the other.  
  He stopped dead at the speed with which Dave wrapped a confident hand around him. He almost didn't comprehend it, but then Dave's hand was moving, and dear  _god above_ Klaus couldn't think anymore. He dropped his head back, his palms splayed across Dave's chest, and moved almost entirely on instinct to rock his hips in time with Dave's hand.   
  Dave's hiss through clenched teeth made Klaus jolt to attention. He was worried he'd hurt Dave somehow, but he could feel himself tense at the sight before him when his gaze found the breathtaking soldier, and he was certain Dave felt the reaction, too, since his briefly stilled hand resumed its efforts with a bit more speed.  
  Dave's back was arched and his pupils were blown wide, and Klaus, curious and explorative as ever, had to know what he did to prompt such a gorgeous display. The look in Dave's eyes screamed of a challenge. It was a look Number Four knew very, very well, albeit not often in this context.   
  Digging his nails into Dave's chest, or raking them over his skin, didn't really spark much more than a soft hum of pleasure, but shifting his hands got him another beautiful arch and a tensed jaw. Klaus felt himself shiver with an excited  _need,_ and he studied Dave's face in curiosity for a moment before it clicked.  
  Hand hovering, touch feather-light, the medium trailed a single finger over strong muscle, and as he expected, as his fingertip brushed the small bud there and Dave let out a shaking groan while his free fist gripped the comforter beneath him. Klaus nearly purred with utter delight.  
  Sliding both hands to Dave's chest, Number Four had his soldier's back arching and limbs trembling in mere moments. Dave tried to gasp out his lover's name, and was failing delightfully. But whenever he would open his eyes, there was such a bright eagerness in his face, it made Klaus melt in adoration. Who allowed him to be so mind-numbingly flawless??

  This wasn't a position Klaus was all the used to.  
  Literally, this physical position was very unexpected, with Dave's back pressed against his chest and his own back against the bedframe, his hands unable to spend too long in one place despite all his efforts to keep his attention on pleasuring the blonde above him while Dave was whimpering into his ear and riding him like Klaus was all he'd ever wanted.  
  Klaus had been a switch most of his life; he'd topped, mostly with women; he'd been a particularly strong power bottom, also mostly with women; he'd been a whimpering bottom, for some women and most men. He'd had multiple reasons for it all- drunken escapades, drug money, flings he thought was young love, a place to sleep... He wasn't particularly bothered by his past, expecially given that a lot of it wasn't well-remembered. He was a pretty boy, and he knew that as well as anyone did. That fact had been plenty helpful when he'd been in need, either of money, shelter, or frankly, just a good blackout-drunk orgasm with a vaguely familiar face when the street life got rough. He wasn't above admitting to fucking his problems away on numerous occasions.   
  After all, once so many pile up, you get bored of your own skillset. Gotta have variety.  
  This felt different.  
  Dave's hand was curled around the back of his neck, his fingers occasionally catching a few curls and giving soft tugs that made the medium gasp. The pressure of the man, so shamelessly, eagerly close in almost every inch of their bodies, the vulnerability he was so content to show, was nothing Klaus would have ever expected. Dave held the strength and confidence of Diego, or Luther, with the softness of... not Vanya, or Allison. Grace? Maybe. Really, Klaus had so little frame of reference for nurturing and compassionate characters, or leaders with any level of consideration for their charges, Dave felt like an enigma.  
  He also felt like a tall, breathtakingly beautiful, drool-worthy muscular Army boy, riding the hell out of Klaus's cock in the middle of their apartment in Thailand, which he specifically asked to share with him and him alone, and in which he specifically told Klaus to share his bed the first night and never once even sort of suggested he leave.  
   _You fucking idiot. He's wanted this the entire time.  
  _"Not fucking now, Ben," Klaus hissed, almost inaudibly- or so he thought, until Dave gasped out a breathless chuckle and Klaus blushed.  
  "Gorgeous, if you aren't sober enough to conjure whichever- assumedly unfairly attractive- brother you're talking to, let him wait-" Dave cut the word with a sharp gasp and a low, growling moan as he arched his back and shifted his angle, and the sound of his ecstasy was enough to rip Klaus from his musings and give a shuddering moan against Dave's ear.  
   _"Baby.."_    
  Moan to whimper, the pet name shook Klaus to his core and he felt himself press deeper into Dave without being fully conscious of doing so. Fuck, he really was a slut for pet names.  
  He felt Dave shift, not physically so much as it was in energy. His breathing, his motions, took on the slightest note of desperation. He felt frantic, slowly moving faster, with more power. The realization made Klaus whine. He picked up his own pace, and tried to reach around for him but the blonde's hand shot out, catching Klaus's, lacing their fingers together against his chest.   
  The feeling of holding Dave's hand as they fucked almost ruined Klaus completely. He couldn't tell if Dave was just genuinely this soft, or if this was something bigger, but before he was even aware of it he was against Dave's ear, murmuring about the blonde's beauty, and strength, and utter perfection between breathless moans and gasps as he, too, grew close.   
  Dave was barely breathing, his body trembling, and  _god,_ feeling those incredible muscles shake on top of him was enough to make Klaus see stars. But he kept talking, professing pure lust, and adoration, and  _trust,_ and how much Dave had given him that he'd never had before. When Dave did take in a breath, it was audibly shaky. Klaus attributed it to the near-violent trembling in his legs, until his lover clenched his jaw and whipped his head around. His tear-streaked cheeks were red, and his command was soft and broken, but utterly desperate.  
  "Fucking dammit, Klaus, I love you, but I'm not gonna be crying when I cum, so shut up and fucking kiss me." His kiss was strong, searing, and commanding, with teeth on Klaus's lip followed swiftly by his tongue. Klaus groaned against his lips both at the pleasure of the kiss and the arousal at Dave's words, and then couldn't stop.   
  Pleasure blended into a duetted crescendo, both men reaching the breaking point at the same moment, and it was Dave stilling to his very breath and just  _shaking_ until he fell over the edge with a loud snarling cry tapering into heavy, panting moans that drove Klaus to nearly yelling out his own orgasm. He bent his forehead against Dave's shoulder, shuddering against him, as Dave gently stroked the back of his head.  
  It lasted for a lovely moment, and then Dave sat up carefully and turned to face the smaller brunette when they both had their breath back. "Hey, he said softly. "Hey, Klaus, you doing okay?"  
  Confusion, then surprised realization. He wasn't aware he'd been crying. "More than okay," he laughed. His breath was still a bit ragged, but he figured that was just hot, so he didn't worry.  
  "You're crying."  
  "Yeah, well, I..." No. No sense in bullshitting. "Did you mean it?"  
   _Because that makes sense, dumbass.  
  _"I mean, that y-"  
  "I meant it. I've meant it, every time." Dave chuckled at Klaus's head tilt, running a thumb along his jaw. "Every time I asked what you wanted to eat, where you wanted to spend the day. What movie, or radio station, or wine you wanted. Every time I bought you some souvenir, or jacket, or a shot at the bar. When I took you to the commander to file for leave. When I asked for this apartment, and shoved your bags in here. You really think I couldn't be bothered to take three steps into the room to drop off waffles?" He laughed with Klaus, and now his hand was just holding one of Klaus's, a perfect fit between long, tired fingers. "I was telling you I loved you, every time, where I knew you'd let it through. When I told you my name on that bus, Klaus Hargreeves. I looked into those eyes, that bewildered fear, that  _pleading_ to be okay. I knew I'd love you. I've always known. I just.. needed to make sure you'd let me tell you."

  Klaus had cried plenty before. Almost exclusively in front of Ben. Once or twice to Grace, and once, just a little, to Pogo, when he was really little. Diego was a good comfort, before he grew up and became an ass.  
  Crying wasn't forbidden, but it wasn't easy. He'd measured himself, been careful. He wasn't an ugly crier, or a needless one- even fake tears were only shed for his own gain.   
  But he'd never heard that. Not a single instance in his life had someone looked him in the eyes to tell him he was loved. No one had offered him an unconditional place in their heart. Not even Grace had explicitly stated she loved him, and if she had, it was just Reginald wiring her to pretend she felt some sort of pleasure following his programming, giving the household the slightest semblance of normalcy. It wouldn't have been real.  
  But Dave knew. He knew, and somehow believed, that Klaus wasn't from this time, didn't belong here. He knew Klaus was haunted, literally, by superhuman powers. He knew he was an addict, a thief, a homeless junkie with no potential.   
  And Klaus was utterly breaking into himself, sobbing into silence, his face a complete wreck while Dave pulled him carefully into his lap and just held him. He was crying, too, but Klaus couldn't see it.

  Klaus couldn't know how brutally Dave's heart shattered watching those three words destroy him so terribly. He couldn't know how much of his pain Dave could feel, the baby of the affair, his entire life spent serving his older siblings and being cast out by his father to "prove" his regret. The gambling. The drugs. The night in the holding cell after trying to put a bullet through his skull, because his parents left together for his dad's big party, and his dad came back alone with barely a scratch while his mother was gone.   
  He'd made it a point to come back around, to be a good man. He wanted the strength, the loyalty, the love, to give others what he'd never had and keep them from ever feeling what he felt.  
  And he may have been late, or, early, rather, to spare Klaus that pain, but he'd burn this entire planet down to ashes if it meant Klaus would never feel so broken and unworthy of those three words ever again.


	6. Every Tide Can Turn To Haunt Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newfound feelings, heavy thoughts, promises made in fleeting moments away from war.  
> Dave's POV!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> VERY STRONG anti-LGBT+/racist opinions and themes from Dave's past, definitely heavy!! Please make sure you're ready to read!  
> Basically a homemade David Katz backstory, helped by the lovely Cody Rae Thompson who supplied us with Dave being a Jewish gambler with four older siblings!  
> This didn't need to be this painful but it's fine! It's really fine!  
> Pleeeeeeaaaase leave feedback!! I LOVE reading your comments, and I really love getting critique if you have any!

 

 

> _David,_  
>  _Heard you got drafted. Finally time to make something of yourself, isn't it? I hope they get you out there and knock some sense into that thick skull of yours. You refuse to learn manners or discipline from me, and you disgrace your mother every day with that foul lifestyle of yours._  
>  _Was it not enough to drag that colored vermin into our home? You had to go out and say you was a fag, too??_  
>  _Tell me where, in our distinguished family, we went wrong with your sorry ass. Your siblings don't drink or gamble. They ain't crackheads. And they ain't colored-blowing queers. Blaspheming right under my roof, boy. You better pray to Jesus He keeps you alive out of the mercy of His heart._  
>  _When I saw your draft for the war I told you to come back a shaped up man. But Charles is taking on the business, and Marie has a baby now. John's married. There's a new woman in the house, a beautiful woman. She won't be soft for ya like Emilie was. Doesn't have no love for fags._  
>  _We've taken off, moved away. New address isn't being disclosed to your commander, neither are any of your siblings'. No more living off of them like a dog. You didn't leave any shit worth keeping, so don't bother looking for your stuff. We all agreed it was better this way._
> 
> _Try not to get blown up. And if God spares you, try and find some other sack of shit to call your "husband" so you can take Johnson out of your filthy mouth._
> 
> _Your father,  
>  RJ._

 Dave wished he had burned that letter the second it got to him. His father- Richard- was such a sack of shit. He was a drunk, a liar, and a cheat, and he'd been nothing but hell to his youngest son. Dave had tried to be understanding; the breadwinner of a six person household, and the founder of a major company, Richard didn't have a lot of free time, and a baby needs a lot of time with his mother.   
  But he got older, got to be able to watch out for himself, and nothing changed. Even his mother grew distant.   
  Marie, his one sister, had made fair attempts to recognize his struggle. They were the closest in age, only a couple of months apart- because Dave was only a half sibling. Richard had gotten fed up with Emilie putting all her time into the household, and taken a mistress; Dave never met her, at least not that he could remember, but he knew she was notably younger than Emilie, and had been all too happy to leave Dave to Richard. If it weren't for Emilie, he would despise her for it.  
  Marie, however much she tried to care, fell into the same hole as Richard for a long time. Come 15, she was often sneaking out with whichever boyfriend she had, usually some shady type in too much leather. John and Charles were both tightasses, so only Dave knew what she was doing. She came in drunk most times, occasionally high, eventually both once or twice. Richard started suspecting, and would usually strike Dave for covering for her. The boy tried to ignore that Richard never punished her.  
  It was her coming home with a half-wasted, half-dressed girl a couple years her senior when her and Dave were 16 and 15 that he first wondered about himself, but he disn't get the courage to ask her until they'd apparently broken up, because she snarled in his face that she was no lesbian whore, and that he'd never think something so disgusting again.  
  She must have gotten really worried about him seeing her, because she immediately told their parents, and while Emilie was content to persuade him that he was "just growing up and confused", Richard saw it fit to come across the table and leave a stinging smack of disdain across his son's face.   
  It absolutely wasn't the worst of Richard's attempts to punish, or "correct", his son, but the further efforts were experiences Dave had fought hard to try and forget.  
  He did his damn best to just ignore it and be normal, and it almost worked- he had a close friend that he braved coming out to who agreed to fake it with him, but when someone caught her with a real boyfriend and tried to call her a whore she turned on him much like Marie did. He didn't blame her. People were ruthless.

  By 18, he finally found a saving grace. He was working a part time job at a diner, and one of the regulars loved to sit up at the counter and ask him about his day. She was a writer, a beautiful poet, and very proud to say she was the first in her family to finish high school. She wanted to go to college if she could ever get the money. She was 17, but only a couple months shy of 18, and Dave was only a couple months into it himself.   
  They grew close as friends, for as much as they were mindful of their interactions. A lot of hanging out at night, or out near Dave's house as he lived out near farmland and could wander the thin woods bordering his property without risk. They ended up finding small groups of folks who gave them drinks, and weed, and had little card and dice games that, at least for Dave, sparked almost a decade of near-addiction to the thrill and risk of gambling.  
  He knew the people were shady, but they were safe for him and Aleisha, and that was enough for them.   
  Dave suspected for a long time that his feelings for her were really for her willingness to show him love, but he couldn't afford to do right by her. He'd still be beat if Richard found out they were together, but it would be easier than if he was ever caught with a man. 

  Of course, Dave being almost 20 and hating his father at this point, when they went on vacation and very pointedly demanded he "focus on his work", he took the opportunity immediately to bring her over. For the several months they'd been involved, not much had happened, and part of him hoped that his inexperience was most of why he felt like he wasn't attracted to women. He did love Aleisha, even if he wasn't sure how.   
  It was just really unfortunate that Richard had so little trust for Dave, and had paid the sheriff to send drive by checks on the house to make sure he was behaving as he was expected to. The first one caught him leading Aleisha inside, and within the hour, Richard had ordered her to be arrested for trespassing. They never spoke again following, and Dave had kept himself at a distance from men, women, and people of color since. People saw him as a typical stuffy racist. As painful as it was, it was probably for the best.   
  Dave had been gone with Aleisha when everyone had packed up and left. He was at work when an officer came in to tell him that Richard had driven drunk, collided with a truck head on, and killed Emilie returning from his company event at the end of their trip.   
  Dave gathered his things from home, and without more than a fist to Richard's face that fractured his hand, he didn't set another foot in his childhood home. 

  He did his best to keep his job for a while, but that went to shit shortly after. He'd stayed with a junkie he knew well enough for a while, who he nicknamed the Rat, but he barely trusted the wiry little putz, and the only thing his dumb ass proved good for was busting in on Dave, down just over a bottle of cheap whiskey, fumbling to load one of the Rat's shoddy pistols in his stupor and press it to his own head. Dave received a boney fist to the face, a night in a shitty holding cell, and some lackluster counseling, before the broke, scrawny boy was sent off and told to get his head on right and stay alive.

  Drinking and drugs became an entire escape, and so did gambling. He was effectively homeless, but one of the dealers he'd met with Aleisha, a wiry older man named Hank, let him stay over when the weather was bad. Hank was a sharp old man with dark humor and deepset racism, but it was never personal. He was as warm as he ever got with Aleisha when they all met, and he suspected Dave was gay early on, finally approaching him about it and simply telling him to watch his back, or be ready to kill a bitch. It was never brought up again.  
  Hank was caught dealing when Dave was 24, and while he had no proof of connection to Dave, the house was seized. Dave was homeless again, and keeping jobs for long was almost impossible. He scrambled trying to keep on substances for a while; Hank had been his only dealer for four years, and by now he was in deep with heroin on top of alcohol, and coke when he could afford it. It was becoming a lot more commonplace, and trying to just sober up after losing Hank was nearly impossible given how often he went out to drink or gamble and how much it surrounded him. 

  He was seen and confronted by John at 27, who almost didn't recognize the scrawny, twitchy brother he once lived with. What started as a fight ended in John dragging the homeless man into his car and forcing him to take a place on his couch. John's house was small and a little worn, but he said it was better than living Richard and his drunken ramblings, or his new dumb-as-rocks wife. They shared a laugh, but it was dry.   
  Getting clean became much easier with John, and they grew almost friendly. He let Dave gamble and drink, but he kept close, always mindful of his younger brother. He made sure Dave was eating well, and soon the blonde had color in his cheeks and almost looked filled out. John made a point of never mentioning the scars on Dave's arms, and Dave never brought them up. Most of them were from childhood, and he didn't like to think about any of that for too long.   
  John thought Marie had made up her story of Dave liking boys years ago, and Dave let him think that way. He never did strictly come out to anyone in his family, in hindsight. It didn't matter anyway, because he was conscripted in the next year, 1966, in the highest draft total of the Vietnam War. Healthy as he may have looked, part of him felt almost eager to go in, make front lines. Part of him thought it would just be easier that way. He could be a hero, maybe finally do something right, and then be done. No way would a man like him survive a war, right?  
  But PT was a welcome distraction. The discipline of the Army almost took away his free time to linger on his past. He became a strong and level-headed soldier, focused only on the mission at hand. John was a fleeting patch of sympathy; Hank would be in jail for several years; Aleisha was never coming back to him and neither was his mother. Nothing was left for him back home. There was only Vietnam, and if he somehow got out, maybe a decent future, if he turned his back completely on what once was, left the state, and started over entirely.   
  David Johnson dubbed himself David Katz, making fast friends with a younger Jewish man and being unofficially welcomed as such himself in his first year in service. He clung to faith like a lifeline; where he once saw religion as nothing but beatings and judgement and pain, he found a new start in yet another way. He began praying nightly, and before training, battle, during raids, almost any chance he got. He never fully pieced together why he felt it so necessary to be so deeply engrossed in it, but it was likely just something to make him feel purposeful, and another way to separate from his past. He was close with the man who led him into it, and the value in their friendship seemed to impose itself into his faith in a way he'd never had before.   
  He found several fast friends in the Army. It made him anxious at first, but the bond of brothers-in-arms was a strong lifeline in the face of war. While he was cautious to stomp out anything that may even strike resemblance to attraction, it was a blessing like no other to finally have kinship with his peers, and a place where he belonged. It hurt that much more when they transferred into Vietnam and started losing soldiers. Over 2 years, he went from a one-track-mind, to a loving brother, and back again, just trying to keep himself together and find his place in the war. He could feel the edges of his steadfast mind wearing thin. 

  Waking up to air raids and a blinding blue light and an absolute stranger staring at him with eyes that somehow seemed to perfectly mirror the pain he'd seen in the mirror for so many years was just another blade to chip away at his strength, and everything he'd taught himself, not only in the war, but since he was a child, trying to survive his father and his own mind, started to unravel right into the shaking, tattooed palms of Klaus Hargreeves the moment David caught his gaze.

 

* * *

 

  

  Dave sighed, balling the letter up in his fist and leaning heavily against the bathroom counter. He always kept it with him, despite every other effort being made to cut off his family. He'd gotten it in his first few months in the military, and no matter how much the paper creased and frayed and the letters wore away, he was sure he could recite it all by memory anyways. He clenched his jaw.   
  He could probably contact John when he got out. Maybe Marie, but he wasn't sure how much trust he had in their childhood closeness, if any. He had no idea if Hank and any of his crew, or Aleisha, were still even alive. Many of the dealers and addicts he'd come to trust were older, and the few that were his age or younger either tended to be very fleeting acquaintances or get caught quick.   
  He'd been bold, in his second year, and sent a letter to his old address. He was surprised to be written back quickly; Richard and his wife and Charles had moved, and by then, there was a very kind, middle-aged colored couple living there. They wrote back and forth for a short time, before Dave got too busy with training and the wife had a daughter, and what began as smug irony became a genuine fondness. The gruff humor in the husband almost reminded him of a younger, softer Hank, and the soft prose the woman shared with him sounded almost like Aleisha's, but more about old things and memories than hopes and imagination like she had always written him on diner napkins and battered pages.  
  "Dave."  
  Steel eyes shot toward the bed, bathed in shadow. Klaus's shifting under the blankets was only faintly visible, but Dave could see him reach out for his companion. He almost went to him, but in a very easy pace Klaus was out of bed and shuffling sleepily toward him. It looked like he didn't even look for him. His eyes were almost totally closed; he just stepped up to Dave's side and sank against him like he'd lived his entire life this way.  
  A soft, sleepy hum against Dave's shoulder made the blonde smile. He felt himself relax when Klaus touched him.   
  He'd never known real love before, and he was stupid to think he'd find it so instantly with such a strangely mysterious individual, but dammit, this was war. If he never made it back, at least he had something worth dying for for the first time in his life.

  "Klaus?" Dave murmured, stroking thick brunette hair. "You wanna head back to bed?"  
  Klaus shook his head. "I saw you reading," he explained in a tired slur. "You're upset."  
  "It's nothing. Don't worry about it, it's just the past."  
  "Past doesn't really leave like we want it to, big guy."  
  He was glancing at the "goodbye" on his palm, and Dave's chest tightened. Yeah, it really didn't. "Do you want to talk about it?"  
  Klaus's eyes were sharper than Dave expected when he looked up at him. "Do you?"  
   _Not in the slightest._ "No."  
  A decisive nod. "You know. My past isn't really... relevant, here. I can't run into my siblings, or my dad. I could stay here, and just. Just live." He sounded hopeful, but there was an edge to it. Dave knew that edge.  
  "But you can't."  
  "No. Nope, I can't. Got a whole apocalypse and shit to deal with. Siblings to protect." There were his eyes again, questioning, hopeful.  
  "But I don't."  
  "So you don't."  
  Wistful, longing, but unsure. Always unsure. Always unsteady. Always needing a little help to ground himself and feel safe. God, Dave saw so damn much of himself in this wiry man, it almost scared him. It would utterly terrify him, if Klaus weren't such a beautiful person, with so much promise. So much love. He hadn't given up like Dave did.   
  "Klaus, I... what if we..." Too scared to continue, but he knew Klaus would understand.  
  "But I can't do that either. You might... what if they need you here? What if you get out of this war and do something incredible? I can't... I'd rob you of that. I can't. I can't." Dave could see him reminding himself, too.   
  "But you're here. And they need you there."  
  "Because I'm... I'm selfish, okay? I, I.. I needed  _out,_ for so long, and I thought the drugs were enough, and then I opened this briefcase and everything was gone and I thought, 'hey! You know what, whatever happens, this is it, you're here now, it's not like you were any help to them. It's not like... not like they noticed you were gone, anyways." His face fell, and Dave felt his heart shatter. He cupped the smaller man's jaw, and while he kept his eyes averted, Klaus leaned into the touch immediately. "I loved someone," he finished, soft like a child. "I found someone I loved, someone who was never meant to be mine, someone I never should have met, and I couldn't let him go. And I don't know what I'm going to do."  
  His eyes were tear-filled when he looked up again. Dave pulled him close and kissed him, long and soft and deep, and by God, he wanted nothing more than to drop everything and follow this man anywhere.  
  "Where's the briefcase?" he inquired after a moment, keeping Klaus close.   
  "Buried by camp," Klaus explained. "I couldn't bring it with me without it being searched, and opening it just transports you, so I had to hide it."  
  "Are you going back?"  
  Klaus froze, and Dave wasn't sure if it was the break in his voice or the weight of the question that caused it. He rubbed Klaus's arm, taking a moment to note how toned Hargreeves had gotten in the short time since he'd arrived in the A Shau Valley.  
  "I don't know. I guess... I have to. I don't belong in this time. If the war doesn't take me out, I'm a risk."  
  Dave flinched. He didn't want to think about losing Klaus in the war. He couldn't. But...  
  "What if the war takes me out?"  
  "Ex-squeeze me?"  
  "If I'm hit. If I come back and I'm not making it. Will you... Will you take me with you?"  
  "Dave, I.. I ca-"  
  "Why? There's medics in the field. If I'm hit, let them bring me back to camp. Get back to me, take me with you. I'll die here. We don't have... I mean, I'm sure medicine is worlds better half a century from now. I'd be okay. I won't be part of this future. It won't hurt anything." His heart was racing, and he wasn't totally sure why. All he knew was that this was all he wanted. He had nothing to go back to, nothing holding him here. Just Klaus. He'd follow Klaus into death if it meant not losing him. By the tears in Klaus's eyes, the brunette knew it, too.  
  The silence between them was lingering and heavy, but finally Klaus snaked a hand around Dave's neck and kissed him with so much warmth it was almost overwhelming. "Okay."  
  "Okay? You'll do... seriously??"  
  "David Katz, I give you my word." Klaus's smile was a bit sad, but his eyes were bright with adoration. "If you're hit, I will get back to you, and I will bring you home. I will do everything in my power to not leave if you aren't with me." He pressed his forehead to Dave's, smiling though tears ran down his face. "I don't want to go a day without you at my side."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I could genuinely apologize for this-- but I can't. I love writing sad shit.  
> Let me know what y'all wanna see next chapter- angst? Smut? Fluff? Help a goblin out!

**Author's Note:**

> If you think this is over you're WRONG, and you should totally bookmark so you can find this when I update >:] I love these sweet boys and I have SO MANY PLANS for how I want to build Dave's character in this five day span, and maybe beyond?  
> Oooooh, we'll see kids! <3  
> Thanks so much for reading! I look forward to feedback! <3


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